


Blood

by Enby_In_Fandom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ash is alive, Betrayal, Boyking!Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Blood, Except Dean, Gen, Harvelle's Roadhouse, I will update tags as we go, M/M, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, also a demon is kinda courting Andy, dark au, everyone is semi-stable, healthy relationship, jo is so sweet, lots of blood, please heed the tags about that, sam is betrayed, semi graphic descriptions of violence, shhh Andy doesn't know that, so much plot, very plotty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enby_In_Fandom/pseuds/Enby_In_Fandom
Summary: Rain soaked country-side flew past them, the damp grass swaying under the gusts of wind as the impala’s windshield wipers swept away the droplets that hit the glass.Sam felt like the storm was a good reflection of how he felt on the inside..Sam's friends and family believe that since he has demon blood in him, he must be evil. After leaving them, he finds his home in the most unexpected of places, with the most unexpected of people.





	1. Chapter One - Demons And Dean Are Similar (They Are Both Violent)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Biokiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biokiri/gifts).



> This is an AU where The Roadhouse never burned down and Sam didn't die at the end of All Hell Breaks Loose: Part One. Also, I really like Andy Gallagher so he's alive too! (I have an explination for Andy, but that'll be for a later chapter.) I've got a few things I want to make sure everyone knows before you keep reading though, just to be safe. 
> 
> 1\. This is all still just an idea so some chapters may end up re-written.
> 
> 2\. I don't have a beta.
> 
> 3\. I'm really just kinda jumping in and sorta not making sense-ish. This starts with the drive from Cold Oak back to the Roadhouse. 
> 
> 4\. This is a dark fic with BoyKing!Sam, so if you don't like that, then I highly suggest that for both of our sakes you don't read.
> 
> 5\. I'm really sorry if some of this doesn't make sense, please just tell me so.
> 
> Okay go ahead and keep reading!

“The demon said he had plans for me, Dean.” Sam confessed, staring out the window of the impala. 

“Do you know what he meant?” Dean asked, sparing a glance at his younger brother, their dad’s words echoing in his mind. 

_You have to save him, Dean. You have to save Sammy, or you going to have to kill him._ The visions suggested that Sam was something more than human, suggested that his brother wasn’t what he had believed for so many years. 

“Yeah,” Came the hoarse reply, and then Sam cleared his throat, blinking away the slight burn in his eyes as he tried to push away the tears that threatened his facade of calmness. “He wants me to lead an army, of demons.”

“Demons?” Dean confirmed, skeptical. “Doesn’t he know that you’re a hunter? That you’re human?” Sam didn't say anything, and Dean looked over at him again, frowning. “Sammy?”

“That night… in the nursery. The demon did something to me.” Sam said lowly, voice choked with repressed emotion. 

“What? What did he do?” Dean demanded, glaring now. Whatever the demon did, it must be related to Sam’s visions, and the reason that he’d been chosen for the psychic hunger games thing. It made him unnatural, made him dangerous. 

“I’d rather wait, so I can tell everyone at once.” Sam half-whispered, and Dean nodded to himself, grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles were white.

“Alright then.” 

Tense silence filled the ride to the Roadhouse, and Sam found himself wishing that Dean would turn on something, _anything_ , to fill in the absence. Rain soaked country-side flew past them, the damp grass swaying under the gusts of wind as the impala’s windshield wipers swept away the droplets that hit the glass. It was a good reflection, Sam mused, of how he felt on the inside.

* * *

As soon as they were in the door, they were firmly sat down and given mugs of hot cocoa, courtesy of Ellen, before everyone began asking what had happened. This late at night, the Roadhouse was closed, and the only people in it were Sam, Dean, Bobby, Ash, Ellen, and Jo. Sam was a little surprised to see the blonde curled under the computer genius’ arm, and let it distract him until Dean nudged him. 

“Sam said that he knew the demon’s plans for him?” Ellen asked, and Sam sighed, knowing that this was probably going to be the hardest thing he had ever been faced with. Harder even, than leaving Dean behind to go to Stanford. Harder than going to Jess’s funeral and not speaking to anyone there, avoiding the cops who suspected he was the one to set fire to their apartment. This wasn’t going to be nearly as hard as leaving the engagement ring on her headstone, with a bouquet of roses, yellow pansies, daisies, and red carnations. The florist had given him the flowers with a sympathetic look, saying that to anyone who knew the language of flowers, these would show just how Sam felt. 

Nothing could be as painful as leaving her there, knowing that if he’d just told Dean no, that he could have saved her. He had to do this, for Jess. She’d want him to do the right thing, to ask for help and tell the truth about what he was, what was expected of him from the demon. 

“The demon, he wanted me to lead an army. They have plans for me.” Sam said, keeping his eyes trained steadily on the floor to hide the way his eyes were glossed over. “They think I’m powerful enough to lead an army of demons.”

“But why?” Ash asked, and it was met with noises of support from the others, who seemed to think that Sam was still innocent, was still a human boy with bad fortune. Perhaps the only one who didn’t think so was Bobby, words ringing in his mind that he’d been told just before he left for Stanford; ‘ _you make your own future, kid. Stuff happens and you make the best of it. You want to make a future as a lawyer? I have faith you can._ ’

“Because, everyone that was at Cold Oak had demon blood in them.” The words were met with silence. Crickets. The sound of rain hitting the tin roof of the awning out front.

Then, “What!” From Dean, who had scooted away from him as he said it, recoiling in disgust. The others were doing the same, leaning back in their chairs.

“Demon blood. The demon fed it to me, and all of the others, when we were six months old. We wouldn’t have known better, we were young and vulnerable. It’s why I have visions. Ava had them too. Jake had super strength and Lily had a touch that could kill someone; she found out when she kissed her girlfriend. Her _girlfriend_. Andy, he could control people’s minds, and he could project images into them.” A corner of Sam’s mouth lifted at the thought of the other psychic, his endearing awkwardness and overuse of the word ‘awesome’ when something interesting and exciting happened. “He once made someone watch gay porn for twenty-four hours straight because they slighted him, you know.” Sam added, chuckling. 

“And you’re just _okay_ with all of this?” Bobby demanded, and Sam flinched, recognizing the tone of voice as one that John had used with him and Dean. Bobby rarely used it, probably didn’t realize he was using it now. 

“Do I have a choice?” Sam asked brokenly, surprised when Jo touched his arm comfortingly, thumb moving in soothing circles. 

“No,” She said bluntly, and smiled a bit. “But you can choose whether or not you’re going to become something evil, Sam. I’ve seen you use your visions to help people, I’ve seen you be desperate to find out information about them and the people in them who might get hurt.” 

Sam swallowed harshly and blinked back the stinging in his eyes, refusing to cry now, not with just a few words. 

“Demon blood?” Ellen asked, and the hostility in her voice set Sam on edge, the tears receding ever so slightly as he risked a glance at her. She looked furious. Furious and disgusted, and it made Sam flinch away. He knew that look, knew it too well from his father, from bullies at school when he held hands with a boy he’d had a crush on. 

“I need to get some air,” Sam muttered, standing and striding toward the door. He heard a chair slide back, and Dean’s heavy footsteps following him outside. They stood under the awning, watching the rain pour down only inches away while they remained dry. After a moment, Sam broke the silence. 

“Do you think this is what Dad meant? When he said you’d have to save me, or kill me?” He asked, biting his lip before looking away, watching the rain bounce off of the impala’s sleek black surface. It was mesmerizing, he thought idly, wishing he and Dean could just pretend everything was still the same. 

“Yeah, I think this is what he meant. Sammy, you’re… a monster. You have demon blood and it’s given you abilities. I saw what some of those kids can do.” Dean gritted out, each word harsher than the last. 

“Dean… I’m not like Max. Neither is Andy, you know that.” Sam defended. 

“Yeah, but you said it yourself. The demon is pushing you to kill people. Just like he did with Andy’s brother, and Andy himself!” Dean snapped, voice burning.

“But we aren’t inherently bad because of the blood!” Sam implored, eyes wide as he silently begged his brother to see that he was still the same, he was still the brother he’d waged prank wars on, the same brother who had run off to university, the same one who had nearly castrated Dean when the older hunter had put Nair in his shampoo. 

“It’s _demon_ blood, Sammy. These visions, they’re just the start of what’s gonna happen to you. You won’t have a choice about being a monster!” 

“Yes, I do! I could have kept quiet when Max was killing his mom, but I didn’t! I could have killed everyone at Cold Oak, but I didn’t! Ava manipulated all of us, even me, and I was barely in time to save Andy from her! Save him! Not kill him! I don’t want to hurt people, and I do have a choice in this! Everyone has choices!” Sam shouted, throwing his hands up angrily. 

“Not you, you don’t! It’s demon blood! You’re a whole new level of freak!” Dean yelled back, and Sam went deadly still, memories of voices calling him a freak pooling in the back of his mind, rage boiling just under the surface. 

“What did you say?” He asked, voice low and dark, bordering on dangerous and carrying a note of thundering warning. 

“I said you are a whole new level of freakishness, Sam. You are a monster in the making.” Dean spat, and before he could blink, Sam had him pinned against the wall, one arm against his throat as the wall shook with the force of his shove. His blood was racing, eyes afire and throat clogged with emotion. 

Just as quickly as he’d shoved him, Dean had them flipped around, and was snarling in his brother’s face. Sam growled right back, teeth bared and a vicious sound ripping from his throat. He used one leg to hold his own balance while the other knocked a foot out from under Dean, throwing him off before wrestling him onto the ground and straddling his chest, panting heavily in anger. Dean tried to twist and buck Sam off him, but instead was held down by his throat with one hand, while Sam raised the other above him and brought it down, fist meeting flesh with a resounding _thud_.

For years, Sam had resented Dean for always being the good little soldier, for being the scary big brother, for never letting Sam make friend when they were in a town for over a month. Now he was furious that his brother, his own _brother_ , believed he would become a monster, simply based off of something he had no control over. That he was weak enough to succumb to whatever the demon wanted him to do. 

“You. Complete. Bastard.” Each word was punctuated by another punch. “I hate you. I. Hate. You.” Dean was sputtering for air by that point, face turning blue, and Sam let go of his throat, standing and glaring down at his brother before going inside to get his bag. 

“Here, the keys to my truck.” Jo said, pressing a set of keys into his hand and giving him his bag as he walked in the door. “We all heard what happened, and I can use Mom’s truck for a while. Good luck, Sam.” She said, getting on tiptoes and kissing his cheek while Ash shook his hand, a grim look on his usually carefree face. 

“Watch out for yourself man, and don’t let assholes like Dean get to you. We’ll grab the rest of your stuff for you and keep it safe. We’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.” Ash assured, and Jo nodded her agreement. 

Sam nodded, heading out the door, and walking past Dean, who was still trying to breathe through his quickly bruising throat. It hurt him to see his brother bruised and bloody, to feel the sting on his raw knuckles, and to know that it was him who caused that damage. But he couldn’t stay, couldn’t pretend that everything was okay when Ellen and Dean and the other hunters would hate him, would be expecting him to snap and murder an innocent family at any second. He was jerked out of his reverie by the sound a hoarse, angry voice behind him. 

“You get in that truck, don’t you _ever_ come back!” Dean yelled, and Sam paused at the edge of the awning, staring at the beat up ford that he was walking toward. Sam turned around and looked his brother in the eye as he stepped into the rain, before turning back around and climbing into the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was a little weird, and probably kinda rushed but... Thank you for reading my first chapter! Please, tell me what you thought! ^~^


	2. Chpater Two - Names And Friends (Both Are Important)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent at least half an hour searching to find whether or not "Boy King" was a canon or fandom title. It's a canon title, in case you're wondering. I am beyond grateful that I got this done too... I'm so excited about this story!

Sam had truly never felt freer than when he pulled up to a small motel just inside of the Kansas border several hours later. 

After getting a room, he unpacked and showered, washing away the grime and the evidence of the last few days, and wishing that he could wash away the demon blood in his veins just as easily. When he exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and another in hand as he dried his hair, he nearly jumped at the sight of the Yellow Eyed Demon and Andrew Gallagher. 

“What the Hell? A little warning would be nice!” Sam yelped, glaring at them, before grabbing his bag and disappeared back into the bathroom and reappearing a few minutes later, fully dressed. 

“Sorry to scare you, Sammy.” The demon said, and Sam frowned. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, watching them carefully. 

“I wanna know why my champion left one of his competitors, alive.” The demon said. 

“Andy isn’t a competitor, he’s my friend.” Sam said, reaching forward and pulling the boy away from the demon. “And you won’t touch him.” He warned, glaring at the demon in front of him. 

It simply chuckled, eyes flashing yellow. “Whatever you say, Sammy boy.” 

Sam bit back his instinct to begin chanting an exorcism, and settled for simply glaring at the demon. Whatever the demon wanted him to do, it was best to do it and not let his friends and family get hurt worse than they already were. 

“Now, you’ll know what it is I want you to do when the time comes, but first, why don’t you just get used to being away from your family?” It asked, and Sam ground his teeth together. Of course the demon knew about his and Dean’s fight. 

“Fine. But I have one question.” Sam said, stepping forward a bit as he faced down the monster that had killed his parents. 

“What knowledge does your heart desire?” The demon mocked, and Sam took a steadying breath. 

“What’s your name? Twenty-two years, that’s how long my dad hunted you, and we never even knew your name.” Sam said, and the demon chuckled, then laughed and then cackled throwing his head back as Sam watched him. 

“You know, that never occurred to me before,” It chuckled, wiping its eyes in mirth. “My name, is Azazel.” He said, before disappearing, leaving Sam and Andy alone in the motel room. 

Sam looked at the shorter man, before looking at the couch the room had - luckily - came equipped with. 

“You get the couch, dude.” He said, before flopping onto the bed and tucking his hand under the pillow, curling it around the machete he always slept with under his head. If anything was to happen, he’d be prepared. 

After a few moments, he heard Andy shrugging off his jacket and laying down. 

“G’night,” Andy murmured, sounding half-asleep already. 

“Goodnight,” Sam responded, and waited till he could hear soft snores coming from the couch until he let himself fall asleep.

~line~

Sam woke up before Andy did the next morning, and decided to take advantage of it, going to get coffee and donuts before the other boy woke up. When he got back, Andy was still asleep, so he sat on the bed, back to the sleeping figure, and checked what supplies he had. Most of his stuff had been shared with Dean, in the impala, so he was stuck with some of the bare minimums, such as salt, holy water, and a few clips of silver bullets, as well as assorted blades and guns. 

Sam didn’t realize that Andy was up, until he heard him. 

“Holy _shit_!” Andy exclaimed, right in Sam’s ear, and the hunter grabbed the nearest weapon and spun around, nearly throwing his smaller friend across the room before he realized who it was. 

“ _Don’t_ sneak up on me like that!” Sam yelled, glaring at Andy, who looked ready to shit himself. “I nearly killed you!” 

“Y-Yeah, I get that.” Andy stuttered, still staring at the gun in Sam's hand. “S-Sorry, Sam. I won’t do it again.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam grumbled as he turned back around, checking his weapons again before throwing them back in his bag. 

“Where are we going?” Andy asked as Sam finished packing, and for the first time, the hunter stopped and thought about it. 

“I think we’re going to drop by Guthrie, Oklahoma and let you get some of your stuff. And then… I don’t know. But I do know that you need to stay with me, because once hunters get wind of what’s happening, they’ll be looking for us. And they won’t be asking questions first.” 

Andy nodded as he paled, completely unprepared for what being a psychic had entailed. “So, um, after we get my stuff, we’re just going to be driving around?” He asked. 

“Yeah, basically. We might find a case, but I’m not sure you’re ready for that.” Sam said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. 

Andy hurried after him, having put on his shoes while they talked. “What do you mean, ‘case’? And why am I not ready for it?” 

“Case, as anything supernatural, anything at all, I can find and kill. Vamps, werewolves, if we’re lucky we might find a wendigo, but those are pretty rare nowadays.” The hunter said, not missing a beat while his friend froze. 

“W-What the _hell_ is a wendigo, why are they ‘rare’, and did you just say that you hunt _monsters_?!” Andy screeched, and Sam glared at him, looking around the parking lot, glad that it was empty. 

“Yes, Andy. Me and Dean were both raised as hunters. Wendigos are rare because they’ve been hunted to near extinction, and any that are left are smart enough to not get noticed. As for what a wendigo is…” Sam tossed his bag into the bed of the truck and opened the driver’s side door. “It’s a creature that was human but turned into a monster when it took up the practice of cannibalism for too long of a time.” 

Andy stumbled around to the passenger side and fumbled into the truck, pale and shaking. 

“Breathe, Andy,” Sam said, helping him put his head between his knees. “Breathe.” He repeated, rubbing the boy’s back comfortingly. He probably shouldn’t have just thrown that information out, but he was used to Dean taking stuff like that in stride. 

“Y-You hunt monsters…” Andy muttered, and Sam grimaced as an almost-whimper reached his ears. “You hunt monsters.” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, watching as Andy seemed to gather himself a bit. “You know what? Let’s get some stuff for the road, and we can just drive around. Okay?” Sam asked, turning on the radio, glad to find that a soft rock station was playing.

They let the soft sounds of the music wash over them as they drove to a convenience store on the edge of town. Sam left Andy in the truck while he went in and stocked up on water bottles and snacks. 

He paused in front of the cooler and took a moment to really think about what this must be like for Andy. 

Pulled away from his friends, his home, and thrown into some sort of twisted, psychic version of the Roman Gladiatorial fights and introduced to the idea of the supernatural. The one person he knows hunts monsters and is the favorite out of all the ‘competitors’ from the ‘games’. 

“Poor kid,” Sam murmured, turning and heading toward the register. As he checked out, he noticed the cashier glancing at Andy through the windows of the store, and frowning angrily. 

“Christo,” He muttered, and the cashier looked back at him, eyes flashing black. 

“Winchester,” The demon acknowledged, and in unison they both glanced out the window at Andy, who was laid back in his seat, eyes closed as he listened to the radio.

“He’s with me. I know he was in the competition, but he’s with me.” Sam said, and the demon nodded as he finished checking out. 

“I’ll be sure to spread the news, sir.” The demon said, and Sam’s brow furrowed. 

“Sir?” He asked, and the demon nodded, her eyes going back to the natural color of the vessel. 

“Do you know what Azazel has planned? And it’s going to b $18.34,” She said, and he shrugged, reaching for his wallet. 

“I know he wants me to lead an army, that’s pretty much it.” Sam said, counting out bills. 

“Leader of an army, at only twenty-two years old. That’s why they treat you with respect. You’re the Boy King.” She said, bagging his purchases. 

“Boy King?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“It’s what the rest of us call you. It was the term that was coined for whoever survived Cold Oak.” She said, handing him his change. “I guess I’ll see you around, my Prince.” She smirked, and he watched her warily as he gathered the bags and headed back out to the truck. 

As he climbed behind the wheel, Sam dwelled on the the titles that the demon had addressed him with, wondering just how long Azazel had planned this. Starting the engine, he looked back at the cashier, to find her watching him. 

Whatever this was, it was new, unexpected, and alarming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Andy is still Andy. He doesn't know a lot about the supernatural, and he totally freaked out about just demons. So he's pretty in character in this chapter. Erm, thanks for reading! And thank you for the kudos!! Seriously thank you!! Kudos are so sweet and it's so awesome to know that someone likes my little scribbles! ^~^


	3. Chapter Three - Memories Are The Worst (But So Is John Winchester)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... am so, so so very extremely sorry for not having this up sooner!! I am so sorry!! I'm going to do Nanowrimo with this, so you guys have more frequent updates to look forward to! I think...

Sam and Andy had agreed that Sam would drive on the way to Guthrie, and he slid behind the wheel of Jo’s truck with ease as the miles flew past them. Dean had never let him drive, except on rare occasions when he wanted something. 

Sam thought back on all the times he’d been mistreated by his father, and found himself scowling at the highway as night fell, lost in memory.

_Dean had been better than him by just a bit at shooting, and young Sammy had paid the price. John had raised the butt of the shotgun and brought it down against his jaw, sending him backwards as stars swam in his eyes. ___

____

_“Do you realize that a mistake like this during a hunt could’ve cost you your life?” He yelled, and Sam flinched, his head reeling from the first blow._

____

_“Do you?” John yelled, and Sam nodded frantically as the shotgun was dropped and a fist raised instead._

____

_“Yessir, I know, sir!” He said, hoping that he would be able to avoid another blow. John faltered, his fist uncurling and falling to rest in his youngest’s hair._

____

_“Can’t lose you, Sammy. Not like I lost Mary.” His father whispered, and Sam relaxed, knowing that he would be safe for the night._

____

_Bringing his arms around his father, Sam whispered, “I know, Daddy, I know. I promise to practice better. I was only a little behind Dean, and look at it this way,” Sam reasoned, hoping to soothe his father about future failures. “I’ve always been smarter than Dean, and I’ll be better at research if he and I decide to hunt together when we grow up.”_

____

_John chuckled at that, knowing it was true that Dean hated research. “Yeah, but I never want either of you to grow up,” He said, ruffling Sammy’s hair, but the boy wisely said nothing about the fact they were already far more mature than most children their age._

____

Pulling himself out of the memory, Sam glanced over, unsurprised to see Andy fast asleep in the seat beside him, head resting against the window. 

____

Chuckling, Sam decided to let him sleep as they passed the state line for Kansas and headed into Oklahoma. It would only be another hour and a half before they reached Guthrie, and Sam was determined not to let the steady roar of the engine lull him into a trance. 

____

He turned the radio to another station, and let the classical music fill the cab of the truck. Listening to the swell and fade of each piece, Sam found himself trying to figure out what it was the demon, Azazel, had planned.

____

“Put together the facts, what do we know so far?” He pondered aloud, then glanced over at Andy to make sure he hadn’t woken the boy up. After being assured that he hadn’t, Sam continued his thoughts.

____

“I have demon blood in me, and it’s what causes my visions. The demon plans for me to lead an army. I’m well respected among all demons. A couple of my titles are ‘sir,’ and ‘my Prince’ and the common term for me among demons is ‘Boy King,’ but I’m not sure why.” Sam murmured, trying to make sense of what was going on. 

____

“Ava’s powers changed from dreams to controlling demons, but she said that it was only the start of what she could do…” Sam trailed off and frowned, chewing his lip as he thought. “Once she stopped trying to fight the demon blood, she gained new powers. Is that the same for all of us? Would we all get new powers?” Sam asked, and fell silent as he thought about the number of children the demon could’ve infected that might not have come into their powers yet. He’d have to ask, the next time he saw the demon. 

____

A soft stirring next to him pulled Sam out of his thoughts, and he looked over at Andy, who blinked at him blearily as he looked around.

__“How… far are we away?” He asked, and Sam chuckled, handing him a water bottle as he watched the boy grimace at the taste in his mouth._ _

____

“About thirty minutes or so outside of Guthrie,” He answered. “I’ll find us a place to sleep for the night when we get there.” He assured. 

____

“There’s an Interstate Motel on East Oklahoma Ave.” Andy offered, and Sam smiled, nodding. 

____

“Thanks,” He said, and the two of them fell silent while Andy fiddled with the radio controls, before letting it settle on a classic rock station, one of his favorites by the way he mouthed the station’s ads, when he thought that Sam wasn’t looking. 

____

The miles passed, and soon enough they were pulling into the motel’s parking lot, and Sam went ahead to get a room for them, keeping an eye out for hunters. It had been nearly twenty-four hours, and while she was skilled, not even Jo could keep Dean under control for that long. Chances were that he and Bobby had already called several hunters, and were keeping an eye out for him. He used a fake name, and paid in cash, determined not to let Dean find him.

____

Retrieving both his bag and his friend from the truck, Sam led the way to the motel room, glad to see that it was decently clean, and that the bedding was fresh. It was significantly better than what Dean usually picked out for them. 

____

Nodding to himself, Sam dropped his duffel on the bed closest to the door and flopped down on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes as Andy moved toward the bathroom. He half expected a sarcastic comment from Dean about him being an overdramatic girl, but remembered that Dean wasn’t here to insult him anymore. Smirking to himself, he rolled over and slid his arm under his pillow, listening to the sound of the shower turning on as he fell asleep. 

____

~line~

____

Dean paced back and forth on the front of Bobby’s porch, trying to figure out how to deal with the Sam Situation. Bobby didn’t feel the same as John or Dean felt, but he was still worried about the effect that Cold Oak had left on the kid. 

____

There was chance that Sammy would need to be taken out, that he would become like the very monsters that they had hunted together in the two years since he’d gotten his brother from Stanford. 

____

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice drifted to him through the open door, reaching him moments before the man himself appeared in the doorway. 

____

“We need to talk about your brother.” He said by way of greeting, and Dean clenched his jaw, knowing that Bobby was going to talk about how Sam could still be saved -- and yes, there was still a chance but it was small, just a tiny sliver of a chance. Cursing silently, he nodded stiffly and followed his surrogate father into the familiar study and accepted the glass of cheap whiskey that was handed to him. 

____

“Dean, there’s a chance that your brother ain’t evil.” Bobby started, and Dean cut him off right there. 

____

“He has demon blood in him. He said himself that the demon was driving all the others like him to be murderers. Why not Sam? Bobby, there’s no saving him. He made that choice himself when he left--” Dean paused, gritting his teeth. “When he left again.” 

____

Bobby sighed, and let the young man in front of him rant for a bit before he stepped up and put an end to it. 

____

“Well boo hoo princess. I’m so sorry your feelings are hurt. But Sam is your brother, you raised him better than your daddy ever could, and I will be damned if I let you just give up on him!” Bobby snapped, glaring at Dean, who backed down a little bit. 

____

After a moment of tense silence, Dean nodded jerkily. “Fine.” He bit out, the tension draining from his shoulders as sank down into a chair. “If he turns into a monster we’re going to have to put him down. You know that.” Dean said, and Bobby grunted in acknowledgement. He hated seeing Dean like this; anger and frustration and dread gnawing a hole in him. He knew that sooner or later, Dean would break, and when he did all of Hell would know it.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for being so patient! Let me know what you think! 
> 
> P.S. *whispers* Next chapter Sammy meets a certain snarky demon with a Scottish accent... ^_~


	4. Chapter Four- He Is Learning (He Just Needs A Teacher)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m... sorry? No, that’s wrong. I’m really f*cking sorry. Life has... been shit. So here’s a chapter that’s been sitting in my docs waiting to be editing and posted. Thank you all so much for being patient with me! <3

It was a week later when Sam met Crowley. He had caught wind of a hellhound case where ten people and counting, had died. The town was a few hours away from where he and Andy were, and Sam decided to check it out, if only to make sure the demon didn’t make any more deals. 

He and Andy together had worked the case, Sam having to frequently comfort and guide the younger man as they worked through the lore and questioned the victim’s families. In the end, Sam left Andy at the motel while he summoned the demon to a crossroads. He didn’t wait more than a few minutes before hearing the sound of footsteps behind him. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Boy King himself. Pray tell, what are you doing here?” A slightly condescending Scottish voice asked from behind him, and Sam turned, looking the shorter man over before speaking. 

“Are you the crossroads demon who’s been making deals around here?” He asked, and the demon raised its eyebrows. 

“Not one for foreplay, I’ll remember that.” The demon remarked, and Sam glared at it, narrowing his eyes. “Fine, straight to business. Yes, I am. Why?” 

“I want you to stop. Reap your remaining souls, but don’t make any more deals.” Sam said, watching to see how the demon would react. 

“Sorry, but I’m a businessman. Deals are my specialty.” It said, raising an eyebrow slightly, as if they were playing chess and he was waiting for Sam to make a move when there wasn’t one. 

“I’m not asking you to stop permanently, just for a little while, and just in this town. Too many people have died already. Go do business somewhere else.” Sam said, putting on a slightly earnest expression. 

“And why would I do that?” The demon said snarkily, and Sam gave him a sheepish face. 

“Because… I asked nicely?” He said, the slight inflection of his voice turning it into a question. 

“I’m Crowley, King of the Crossroads. You really think that I’ll just go because Azazel’s pawn asked nicely?” The demon, Crowley, said harshly. Sam gritted his teeth together angrily and glanced at his feet for a moment. 

“Azazel killed both of my parents. The only reason I’m not trying to kill him is because I’m trying to keep my friends safe. The real reason you’ll want to leave this town is because if you don’t, it’s going to draw the attention of other hunters, who won’t think twice before they send your ass back to Hell.” Sam said, casting a hard glare at the demon. 

Crowley regarded the young Winchester for a moment before nodding. “Fine, I’ll leave for a bit and check up on Hell. Happy?” He snarked, and Sam smiled a bit. 

“Thank you.” He said fervently, and Crowley paused, taking in the young man before him. Traces of baby fat still lined his faces, and shaggy, unkempt hair framed earnest hazel eyes that struck a chord in the depths of the demon’s tainted soul. 

Between one blink and the next, Crowley disappeared and Sam was left staring at an empty crossroads. 

He smiled to himself in victory as he headed back to his truck, unaware of the demon watching him invisibly. 

Sam picked up a bottle of whiskey to share with Andy as a victory celebration on his way back, dwelling on the demon. He mused that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be the Boy King. If other demons would do as he said, all he had to do was disguise his requests as Azazel’s orders. But for now he would focus on getting used to being in a position of such high power, even if it was rarely used.

~line~

Sam and Andy ended up in Texas over the next few weeks, setting up in a rent house with a six month lease on it. The house was nice, and the neighbors were too, despite thinking them a couple. They fell into a routine as they grew used to being in close quarters with one another, and Andy began to fill the hole that Dean had left empty while they were growing up. 

The two of them got a surprising amount of demonic visitors, and they all respected him in a way he wasn’t used to. He treated each of them with the same amount of respect, listening to what they had to say and trying to be considerate of each demon.

Azazel stopped by once a week, reading the reports Sam had been writing on the demons who stopped by, and giving Sam lessons on how to act and behave around demons, and how to sense and control the power he possessed. 

When it finally happened, it happened on accident. 

Andy was in the kitchen making sandwiches while Sam looked for cases in nearby towns. There was knock at the door, and Sam pushed away his laptop as he went to answer it. 

“Sam Winchester?” The woman behind the door asked, and he nodded tersely. 

“Who are you?” He’d demanded, and her eyes flashed black for a moment, making him relax. “Oh, please, come in.” He said, stepping back and letting her in. 

“Thank you.” She said tensely, and he smiled at her. 

“Let me grab my notebook? Sorry, we weren’t expecting visitors.” He said with a little shrug. The demon nodded, and Sam disappeared down the hall into his bedroom. 

He failed to see the disgust on the demon’s face as it started toward the kitchen, where Andy was getting down cups to see if the demon wanted something to drink. He did, however, hear the clatter of dishes hitting the ground, and a shout, followed by a thud as something heavy hit the wall. Sam dropped his notebook, running down the and seeing Andy, his friend — his _only _friend — pinned against the wall, clutching at his throat and struggling to breath.__

____

“No! Stop!” He yelled, skidding to a stop in front of the demon, but it only sneered at him with black eyes. 

____

“If you’re going to lead an army then you shouldn’t be playing house with this whore.” The demon spat, and behind him Sam could hear Andy’s breath coming in short, sharp gasps behind him. 

____

Sam swore later that he wasn’t sure how he did it. Without thinking, without even meaning to, Sam flung out his hand and felt a rush of power course through his body, from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet, tingling and burning as he willed the demon’s hold over Andy to be broken as he threw the demon against the wall. 

____

He dropped his hand, going to his friend and helping him up.

____

“Are you okay, can you breathe now?” He murmured, relaxing incrementally when Andy nodded. He turned toward the demon, standing tall with his shoulders back and towering intimidatingly. 

____

“Spread the word in Hell,” He said, voice deep and angry, commanding attention from both the demon and Andy. “That anyone who lays a hand on Andrew Gallagher will face the wrath of the Boy King.” He knelt down where the demon was on the ground, and looked it dead in the eye. 

____

“Do not forget that Azazel does not tolerate disobedience.” He said softly. 

____

Looking back on the scene that night in bed, he realized that he’d forgotten to establish that he and Andy weren’t in a romantic or sexual relationship, but he decided that as long as the rumor protected Andy, there was no reason to do anything against it.

____


	5. Chapter Five - How To Manipulate Demons (You Can Only Try)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... I’m sorry? Really sorry? I’m trying guys, I’m trying. I promise.

When Azazel showed up off schedule the next day, neither of them were really surprised. They simply motioned for him to take a set handed him a drink, Andy disappearing into the kitchen after the demon took it. 

“So I hear you used your powers yesterday, Sammy.” He said by way of starting the conversation, and Sam nodded, nursing a cup of coffee. He’d had nightmares throughout the night, things he couldn’t possibly fathom when he woke, but that left him shaking and exhausted. Andy projected worried feelings at him from the kitchen when he didn’t hear Sam respond verbally, and the other smiled slightly. 

“Yeah.” He said aloud, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, some bitch tried to kill Andy.” Azazel looked at him a moment, and Sam knew that look — it was the one the demon wore when he was trying to figure out Sam’s power, his ‘worth’ in the war. He’d seen it many times since they’d moved in. 

“I’ll tell you what, Sammy-boy. I’ll stop by twice a week, to help you with that finicky little bit power of yours, and I’ll tell the demons to stay away from you and your… boy.” He offered, and Sam nodded, considering it a moment even thought he knew he was going to agree. 

He just wasn’t sure why Azazel would phrase it as a bargain.

“In return,” — oh, there it was. — “I need you to start figuring out who’s part of the rebellion.”

“Rebellion?” Sam asked, and the demon nodded, yellow eyes trained on him in a way that made him tilt his head slightly as he took a sip of cooling coffee. Did Azazel think he was part of this supposed rebellion?

“There’s been rumors, too many rumors, about a group of demons looking to overthrow me and take over Hell. And to put it bluntly, I won’t stand for it. I’m working towards a bigger picture here, Sammy, and we can’t let these demons ruin that. So, will you help me? And in return, you and your boyfriend will be left alone?”

Sam balked, flushing. “Andy isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my brother, that’s all he’s ever been to me.” He protested, setting his cup down. Azazel waved a hand, dismissing the Winchester’s protest. 

“What do you say? Work with me?” The demon asked. 

Sam bit his lip, thinking of Crowley and wondering if the demon was part of, or even leading, the rebels. But Andy was far more important than a demon he’d met once. 

“Sure. But I need to know more about this rebellion. I’m going to need to know everything you do if you expect me to figure out who all is a part of it.” Sam pointed out, watching Azazel as the demon nodded. 

“From what I’ve heard, it’s being led by a crossroads demon, so be on the lookout for one who has expressed any sort of disloyalty. It’s supposedly a widespread network of demons, though I can say for sure it hasn’t infiltrated my inner circle yet. If it had, they would be dead.” He said, grinning nastily. “Just be on the lookout for anything suspicious. In the meantime, meditation really works well for centering and control.” Azazel offered, standing and making his way towards the door. 

“I’ll see what I can dig up.” Sam offered, standing and meeting his eye. “I know you’re trusting me with this, so I’ll give it my best, and hopefully we’ll take down this rebellion before it tries to take us down.”

“‘Atta boy, Sammy.” Azazel said, grinning as he closed the door behind him, disappearing, and Sam collapsed into the chair he’d previously vacated, and Andy wandered into the room. 

“You okay?” He asked, and Sam nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“I’m worried about this rebellion. I don’t like Azazel, but he’s got most of Hell under control, which is a lot more than a lot of people can say. But what if the rebellion turns out to have a better goal than Yellow-Eyes does? Or they want to hurt me, and they target you? I can’t have you in danger. You’re my brother. And—” Sam was cut off by Andy. 

“Stop, stop right there. Look, I get that you’re worried. But you need to focus on becoming a ruler. If you can’t stop the rebellion and they do overthrow Azazel, you need to be ready to step up and take control of the situation, Sam. So stop worrying, and just focus on the important things.” 

He nodded, squaring his shoulders and taking a breath. He couldn’t let anxiety get the better of him. He’d always been level-headed and calm to counteract Dean’s brash recklessness, and he needed to be that again, to lead these demons. 

“We’ve got this. We can handle this.” He said, looking over a Andy, who grinned at him. 

“Damn right we can.”

* * *

* * *

Sam was sitting in his bedroom, reveling in the silence around him as he let himself sink into his mind, trying to form a mental image of what his power had felt like. It came in the form of a beast with long claws and teeth, strong muscle with the ability to pounce and attack in an instant. He felt himself shiver as it took on a look that appeared solid, the beast pacing back and forth inside of him, obviously unexercised and untrained but strong, incredibly strong. 

He bit his lip and called out to it gently in his mind yet the thing turned toward him and lunged, long fangs bared and claws unsheathed. He pulled himself out of his mindscape quickly, and looked at his shaking hands as wild and untamed power swept through him, the air around him desert hot and dry and blowing around the room, tipping things over and breaking them. He waited until it settled to a simple steady thrum under his skin before sinking back into his mind. 

This time he simply sat and watched it, surprised it seemed content to simply sit there for now, having apparently gotten some satisfaction out of trying to attack Sam. He watched as it finally laid down and closed its many eyes, falling into an easy slumber, ready to wake at a moment’s notice. 

As he pulled himself out of his mind for the second time, he was aware of Andy’s voice through the door, asking him if he was okay. He stood, brushing off his jeans and opening the door with a weak smile, assuring he was fine and that his meditation had taken a surprising turn. 

The weeks went on like this, until it reached the point that Sam would go to a private, secluded area in the woods or elsewhere on a regular basis to allow his power to run free and swirl around him in bright red anger and ferocity. He found himself calmer and feeling stronger each time, and after a nearly two months of just letting his power exercise itself, he brought up the subject of trying to use it himself over dinner. 

“You want to use your own power instead of doing what you know is safe?” Andy asked, fork pausing halfway to his mouth and Sam nodded affirmatively, taking a sip of the water next to his plate as he did so. “Well, it’s your power, so go ahead.” 

Sam grinned at him, nodding. “Thank you, I didn’t want to get in a fight with you about this. I know that you get worried for me, and I—”

“I get it, just be carefully, okay?” Andy said, cutting off the rambling before Sam’s mind could push out a string of words that would never end. They smiled at each other, the slight tension in the air dispensing as they returned to their meal.


	6. Chapter Six - Rebellions And Revelations (Both Lead To Flirting With Demons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote most of this a bit after I finished the last chapter, but then I hit a block and I just finished it. I’m sorry it took so long, I am working on it, and I’m going to keep working it I promise! <3 Thank you all for sticking around and thank you for the comments and encouragement!

“That is not careful!” Andy screeched, brandishing a fork in one hand as he use the other to gesture wildly. “You are not supposed to go out looking for the rebellion, you’re supposed to see if it comes to you or if you can get information without getting in danger!” He scolded, and Sam hung his head, nodding. 

“I know, Andy, I know. But I had a lead, and I’m a hunter, remember? I know I’ve been teaching my power over these last few week, and I’ve made so much progress - I can light candles just by looking at them now! - but this is something I need to do. I have a lead on the rebellion, and this is a big thing.” He said imploringly, looking at Andy with wide eyes. 

“I know, but you said you’d be careful, man. This… going out to look is not careful, especially since you didn’t even tell me what you were doing.” 

Sam winced, nodding as he acknowledged the mistake in his choice. He sighed, trying to come up with a response. Before he other could respond, there was a knock on the door, and they exchanged glances, Sam nodding a bit to indicate he would answer it. 

He felt bad that he’d upset his friend so much, but tucked the feeling away as he opened the door, smiling politely. His smile faltered a bit in surprise when he saw Crowley on his porch, grinning at him smugly. The demon looked as impeccable as he had when they’d first met, and every bit just as self-assured. 

“May I come in?” He asked smoothly, and Sam nodded, stepping backwards to let him in, repressing a shiver when Crowley brushed against him lightly as he came in, surveying the house. 

“Crowley, correct? The crossroads demon from a few months ago?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. He gestured towards the couches, taking a seat on his preferred chair and picking up the notebook and pen he’d taken to leaving in the living room for unexpected visits like these. 

“The one and only. I heard that the future ruler of Hell had settled down with someone, and was living a domestic life. I wanted to see if the rumors were true.” Crowley said, shrugging casually as he sat down. “I had hope you’d be doing something more, rather than playing house.”

“Who says I’m not?” Sam challenged, leaning forward. “Yes, I’m here with a home and a brother, but why does that mean I’m not doing something more?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the demon stare at him for a moment, face carefully blank.

“You’re right, but what have you been doing? Running around looking for a rebellion you know nothing about? I see nothing to indicate that you’ve been doing anything at all that would be considered conducive towards becoming the Boy King.” Crowley pointed out, eyes slightly narrowed. Sam sighed, nodding towards the scented candles on the corner table; as Crowley looked over at them, they burst into flame, burning steady and bright. 

“Have you ever heard of not making your progress obvious to enemies?” Sam asked, eyes detached even as he tried not to shiver when Crowley looked him over, raking his eyes across Sam’s form, sizing him up, before meeting his eye once again.

“Of course I have, I just didn’t think you had.” He said casually. “So, darling, where did you hear about some sort of rebellion?” He asked, earning him a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Where do you think, _darling_?” Sam retorted, stressing the word sarcastically as he raised his eyebrows at the demon sitting across from him. Crowley snorted a bit, tilting his head at him while he spoke. 

“Touché.” He said, steepling his fingers under his chin, watching Sam with equal parts caution and amusement. There was a moment of silence when Andy came in, carrying two glasses of water and a plate of cookies. He paused and frowned at the candle for a moment when he saw it. He set the glasses down, glancing between them and projecting worried curiosity at Sam as he left the room. Sam sent back a pulse of reassurance before turning back to the demon, watching him for a few seconds. 

“Hypothetically, if there was a rebellion,” he started, measuring his words. “Would you be the leader for it?” He asked, tilting his head and smiling a bit. “Or would you be the person behind the scenes?” 

Crowley paused before speaking, mulling over the words and what would be safe. “Well, speaking in a hypothetical sense, I would be the latter. Less risk of being murdered for treason.” He pointed out, smiling without mirth or joy. 

“Again, speaking hypothetically, what would be the logic behind a rebellion? Azazel wants what is best for Hell and it’s denizens, why would there be a need for a rebellion?” There was a moment of silence that seemed to drag out into an eternity as the demon took a cookie from the plate and nibbled on it, before Crowley spoke once more. 

“In this scenario, Yellow-Eyes wants to free Lucifer and start a war against Heaven. Do not ask me for the details of it.” He warned when he saw Sam start to open his mouth to ask a question. “This supposed war would end up with thousands of demons dead, and a very real possibility of the Apocalypse.” 

Sam shuddered, remembering the lore he’d read of the end of times, and the death and destruction that came with it. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, crossing his legs over each other as he studied Crowley. He had no reason to not believe him, except what Azazel had said, but then again the yellow-eyed demon had murdered his mother, and his girlfriend. Perhaps he should allow a bit of trust in Crowley if he trusted Azazel. It would be beneficial to see which one was truly trustworthy — well, as trustworthy as a demon could be, anyway. 

“So, assuming all of this was true how would one in my position go about stopping this Apocalypse, or aiding the rebellion in stopping it?”

”Well, that is what we need to talk about, certainly. Right now however, I need to go.” Crowley said, rising and brushing invisible dust off of his impeccable slacks. “We will continue this discussion at a later date. Perhaps over drinks?” He offered, a small and semi-polite smile gracing his features as he escorted him to the door.

Sam thought it over as they walked, nodding once they reached the door and smiling more genuinely. “That would be nice. I assume you’ll contact me with where you would like to meet?” He asked, holding eye contact with the demon steadily. 

“Of course. Au revoir, Samuel.” He said, bowing lowly in a mocking fashion. 

“Until we meet again, good sir.” Sam murmured, bowing to the demon and trying to ignore the thrill that raced through his veins at the sound of his full name slipping so smoothly off of Crowley’s mouth. It sounded sinful, and a small voice at the back of his head pointed out that he was dealing with demons, the very embodiment of sinfulness.

He pushed the thoughts away as he closed the door, letting out a breath of air as though he’d just run a marathon. He made his way to the kitchen, where Andy was waiting, and took a seat to try to compose himself. There was a lot of work to do.


	7. Chapter Seven - He Will Be King (Just Have Faith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? An update? I’m sorry I’ve been so absent guys, I’m working on it though. School is starting again soon, but I think I can get out another chapter before then. This story is starting to head in the right direction! Also check out chapter one again if you want, I made some edits to it and gave it a bit more depth and formattting! 
> 
> Also this chapter is for Clarity Dolphin, because they are one of my absolute favorite people I’ve met so far on this website.

Sam honestly had no idea what he had been thinking when he decided to go on the hunt. Okay, he knew what he had been thinking, but it was a stupid thought. The hunt had turned out to be a disaster from start to finish, the only good part being leaving the town behind. He was bruised and bloody, one eye swollen shut in a myriad of blue and purple, a steady stream of tears and blood trickling from it. 

He sighed, flicking the radio on as he drove, one hand occupied with the steering wheel, the other pressing an ice pack to his head. He rested his elbow on the windowsill and kept his eyes on the road, berating himself for being an idiot. 

He’d shown up at the town — that was two states away and caused many protests from Andy — in his FBI gear, already planning what questions to ask the locals. Sam had arrived at the same time as another hunter, who was more interested in shooting than asking questions. A short introduction (where Sam used a fake name, of course) later, Sam and his new companion, Mackey, were questioning the victims’ families, and the local people. Later that night found them pouring over lore, trying to figure out what the monster was and arguing over the possibilities. 

Once they finally agreed and had gone out to hunt or the thing, they had geared up and gone out to look for it before it killed anymore people. Of course, that was when things completely and utterly crashed. Mackey had received a text, and gone strangely, suspiciously silent. He refused to speak no matter how many times Sam attempted to talk to him, until they actually found the creature — which turned out to be a new hybrid type of creature that seemed to be both a wraith and a vampire, leading to them struggling with how to kill it. 

Sam ended up pinned on the ground in an abandoned warehouse, fighting against the creature as it bared its fangs, obviously intent on ripping out his throat. Mackey stood in the doorway, watching with a cold, impassive face. 

“Help! Mackey! Help!” Sam yelled, feeling his power well up inside of him as it thrummed under his skin, responding to the threat to his life. He desperately didn’t want the situation to get to the point where he had to use his power to ill the monster; didn’t the other man to see his power. Mackey stood there, watching as Sam struggled for his life. He held a machete, obviously intent on decapitating the monster, but only after it killed Sam. 

Once he felt the harsh pain of fangs sinking through his skin, Sam gave in to the overwhelming power crawling just beneath the surface of his skin, letting his power blast the creature off of him, small flame trailing from his fingertips. He stood, swaying as he looked at the thing getting up, ready to charge and attack again. Blood dripped down his neck, but he ignored it in favor of lifting one hand and channeling his power, pushing the monster against the wall, watching as it slowly caught fire, crying out and writhing before withering and turning to ash. His other hand shot out to brace himself against a beam, eyes shutting for a moment as dizziness washed over him in a wave. 

He was losing blood quickly, he could tell. Turning to Mackey, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision and was relieved when it worked, or rather it mostly worked. 

“Wh- why didn’t you try to save me?” He questioned, the words hoarse and wet, and Sam can feel the blood in his throat, on the back of his tongue and his makes his stomach roll. “Why leave me to—” he cut off, coughing harshly and spitting out blood. “— to die?” 

“Because you’re a monster. A filthy demon.” Mackey spat, pulling out his phone and Sam knows, with sudden clarity what the text message from earlier was. Still, he reads it when the phone was shoved in his face, and when did the other man even cross the room? He scanned the message, unable to fully read it. 

_Danger: Hunter by the name of **Sam Winchester attacked his brother** and stole another hunter’s vehicle after finding out that he **is part demon.** Don’t approach unless properly prepared, the subject is **violent** and strong, **will** most likely **kill you. Do not work with him** or attempt to engage with him in any way. If you **come in contact** with him, **tell us** , he **needs to be neutralized.**_

Just below the message was a photo of him, an unflattering photo that Dean took during one of of their prank wars — Sam recognizes the slight shimmer of glitter on his jacket, but the focus of the photo is his flat, dark look. He closes his eyes against the image, feeling sick. He can still see the shit-eating way Dean had been grinning when he took the photo, his teasing words. _‘Sammy, loosen up! Have a little fun!’_

Brushing away the thoughts and trying tune out Mackey’s voice, ranting about monsters and hypocrisy, he pressed a hand against his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood. When he blasted the creature away, it had taken part of his neck with it, though not nearly as much as he had honestly expected. The wound stung, nerves firing pain signals to his brain that he wished he could shut down. He turned away, bracing his head against the wall and trying to steady himself. 

He reached for his power again, hoping to Hell that he wasn’t about to fuck up whatever chance of surviving he had. He brought it to the surface, gasping out as it throbbed under the wound, burning and pressing as it felt around, as if unsure whether to tear it open further, or to close it up. Sam maneuvered it as best he could, trying to coax it into closing the wound, into healing him. He could feel the wild, dark power inside of him twitch with understanding before he was taken over with sharp, white-hot pain. He could feel the wound burning, heat waves washing up the side of his neck and face, before it subsided. 

Dizzily, he lifted a hand and let his fingers drift over the scab, the surface of it rough and shooting sparks of pain through him with the slight pressure, though it hurt significantly less than the skin around it. He turned, bracing his back against the wall and looking over at Mackey, eyes dark. When he spoke, he could feel the power shaping his words into something he wouldn’t have said otherwise. 

“I doubt that Hell’s General would appreciate you attacking someone he finds useful. Perhaps you should watch your back from now on, Mackey.” The words are cold and sharp, disturbingly ironic in their tone. _Watch out_ , they say. _We’re coming for you._

He had left Mackey standing in the warehouse, staring at the pile of ash that was previously a monster. Sam made his way back to his motel, gathering his stuff and throwing it into the seat of his truck. He knew Andy would be both angry and worried, and the thought of letting the other boy down sent a pang through his chest. Andy was his family, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt him. Which led to where Sam was now, driving home and wishing that he could just close his eyes and wish upon a star to make Dean and the other hunters just forget about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave a comment, they fuel my creative fire!


	8. Chapter Eight - Hurt Can Come In All Forms (And Dreams Can Wield Weapons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot happens in this chapter, including: 
> 
> \- blink and you’ll miss it Lucifer  
> \- protective Crowley  
> \- demons have a slightly soft side  
> \- Andy is angsty  
> \- Family is more than blood  
> \- Sam is angsty

Andy had been silent when Sam came home, covered in blood and grime, dark circles under his eyes. He was silent while he helped clean and bandage Sam’s wounds, and silent still as the hunter told him he hadn’t felt well after using that much power at once. He remained silent when Sam came down with a fever, but he tended him as best he could. He had turned away demonic visitors, telling them that the Prince was busy and not accepting visitors. When Azazel came by, he updated the demon on Sam’s condition and recent activity, but refused to let the demon see him for more than a few minutes. It was amusing to Azazel of course, but he decided to humor them and leave it be. 

Sam was plagued with nightmares, sweat soaking into the bedsheets when he would cry out at night, pleas and begs on his lips. Andy was always there to wipe his face with a cool washcloth and change the sheets so that Sam wasn’t lying in a filthy bed. He was angry, beyond angry with Sam, and wanted nothing more than to yell and scream at him, but he didn’t. Instead he worked day and night, making Sam eat and take medicine when he was awake and then soothing him when he was asleep. 

He didn’t know who Jess was, or why it was her that caused the worst nightmares, but he was always there to keep Sam from hurting himself as he tried to get out of the bed, stumbling and tripping as he cried out for her and begged for her to come back. It was these nightmares that scared Andy most, because Sam’s eyes would be open, wild and frantic and searching, darting up the the ceiling too often to be a coincidence. He would grab Sam and try to keep him from moving, sometimes singing, or sometimes just talking until Sam stopped fighting and he could get the giant man back into bed. 

There were nightmares about Dean or his dad, ones that made Sam flinch and beg in his sleep, quiet words begging his brother not to go, not to do something. These nightmares were the ones that made Andy’s heart clench, and tears sting his eyes. He would have to sit and listen as Sam promised his father that he would do better, that he would work harder, that he wouldn’t fail again; he would beg not to be punished, would beg his father not to touch his schoolwork. He had to sit and reassure the other man that it was okay, that he did good, that he wouldn’t be punished, that he wouldn’t have his homework taken away or destroyed, that school was not a waste of time. Sometimes the words worked, other times they only made Sam cry, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes and mixing with sweat before soaking into his hair and the pillow. 

There were nights were Sam would just lie there, face twisted in an expression that Andy couldn’t discern between confusion and pain. He would whisper about cold, about cages and imprisonment before Andy would remind him with soft words that he was safe and free, that there were no cages and he was safe in his home, warm in his bed and taken care of. 

Andy was surprised by the protectiveness of the demons that frequented the house for visits, the way that some of them offered to track down a witch and make them concoct a peaceful sleep spell for Sam, so that he would sleep without the nightmares he had been suffering from. One of them, one that had expressed fondness for the two of them during frequent visits— “for the lemonade, I swear this is the best I’ve ever had!”— offered to find a protection charm for the younger man. It was alarming, even, how much Andy enjoyed their protectiveness, enjoyed knowing that even if Sam was not able to protect him, the rest of these hell-born monsters that were seemingly so heartless would. 

The fever raged for a week before it finally broke, and Andy couldn’t have been more relieved. Sam slowly recovered, and by the third day after the fever was gone, he was sitting up and bitching about not being let out of bed or being allowed to eat ‘real’ food. Andy reminded him that over the past week he’d lost a lot of strength and barely eaten at all, it would only make him miserable if he acted like he was 100% healthy already. Sam had conceded, although stubbornly. He ended up acknowledging to himself that Andy was right, and he needed to be more grateful to the other boy for taking such good care of him. 

Andy hadn’t let him talk much while he recovered, and in return barely talked to him. The smaller man’s thoughts had been in turmoil, torn between worry and anger for Sam, and grief for the brother he never had. He would spend nights taking care of Sam, and found himself wondering if he would have ever been able to care for his brother this way if they hadn’t been separated. He had thought about it before Azazel tossed them into Cold Oak, but the restless nights taking care of Sam allowed his mind to wander bitterly. He found a pit opening in his heart, bitterness and grief and anger stewing in it, and he hated it, recognized it as something that would twist his power into something dark and horrible.

So he pushed the thoughts into the corner of his mind, focusing on the present instead of dealing with his feelings. He knew it was wrong, unhealthy, but what else could he do? His friend needed him and he couldn't leave, that would be bad. It would be wrong. Most of all, he was indebted to Sam, had seen the man defend and protect him, call him brother and family. He couldn't leave, he just couldn't. Maybe Sam wasn't his brother, not by blood, but he was still his family. Neither of them would be safe without each other, Andy was sure of that at least. 

So, he drew in a deep breath, and cooked dinner, took care of the house and the chores, making Sam do them too at times, to keep him responsible for mundane things. It made him smile to himself, the way that Sam would smile, almost grateful for the simple tasks, things that he would forget about in the wake of honing his powers and interviewing demons. Andy would be damned if he would let Azazel or any other demon take away his humanity, through the use of powers or not. Crowley, Azazel, the supposed army that Sam was supposed to lead-that was all they wanted, to take away his humanity and make him nothing more than a monster, a person with no morals and ready to kill on a whim. The idea of it disgusted Andy, made him want to puke, but he swallowed down the nausea and forced himself back to the present, back to taking care of the still healing man he knew was was brother. 

Azazel, the other demons that stopped by, they checked on Sam and commented on his use of power, expressing pride, but also disappointment that he had not killed the man. The furious look on Crowley's face when he had seen Sam laid out on the bed, twitching in the grips of a nightmare, was a scary thing to witness. He had had no doubt in his mind that the demon was going to track down the hunter that had done this, would find them and drag them to Hell. Maybe he and Sam would be okay, or maybe they wouldn't but either way, Andy refused to give up his new life, his new family that he had wanted for years and finally had

Because family doesn't end with blood, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survive off of comments, they’re the fire I need in winter


	9. Chapter Nine - Settling In (Apple Pie Life Is Actually Pretty Good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More or less it's just 
> 
> \- Sam and Andy start working things out  
> \- More Luci but Sam doesn’t trust him  
> \- More Lemonade Demon  
> \- Flirty Boyking and his demon  
> \- Andy is teaching Sam and vice versa for their powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides in with a starbucks and my newfound motivation* What is up fam? I'm back with another update, including lots of lovely things that I'm sure you're all going to love. 
> 
> I'm switching up my style a bit, so let me know what you guys think!

Sam dreamt. Images of pain and terror and the things that plagued his mind playing over and over and merging in a horrible collection of images and sounds. Twisted thoughts that combine his worst nightmares into even worse ones, ones where his dad yelled that Jess was not good enough, that Sam was a coward for wanting love. Some dreams were calmer, but still enough to make him scream in terror.  
Glowing red eyes, a sense of overwhelming cold and ice, and the feeling of being trapped, of being caged. Sometimes there was a voice, trying to calm him in soft whispers, saying that _it was okay_ and that _there’s no need to be afraid_. But he could hear the strain, as if it took everything to just say those assurances. The voice, while soft, sounded like it was in pain, as if it hurt to even consider trying to form words. 

He refused to trust it. 

How could he trust something that was hurt? That appeared in his nightmares? No, Sam decided as he healed from wounds, barely speaking to Andy, he wouldn’t trust it at all. 

Weeks passed, and the nightmares faded, even if he would still dream of the cold and the eyes and the voice at least one a week, making him wake in a cold sweat. Every time he dreamed like this, he could swear that this figment was real. He would have to take a shower, convince himself that it wasn’t below freezing, that the voice couldn’t be trusted, but nothing could wash away the feeling that it was telling the truth, that it was real, and that it needed him. It was alarming. It was terrifying. 

He felt that it would be extremely bad if he told Azazel, or anyone else, even Andy. He knew that was he still with Dean, he would have told in an instant, trusting his brother and Bobby to take care of him. Of course, that was something that he now knew better about. Doubtless they would think he was turning dark, that his dreams were a manifestation of how ‘cold’ he would become and the ‘lies’ he would tell people. He had considered it himself for a while, between dreams, but in the end he had brushed it aside. Whoever was in these dreams was real, that he was sure of, even if he couldn’t trust it. 

In the months following the fever, surprisingly little happened. Andy seemed to be struggling with something, but whenever Sam asked about it, he was told that everything was fine, that there was nothing going on. He offered silent support, cooking dinner more often and trying to help out more around the house when he wasn’t entertaining a queue of demons who seemed insistent on showing up to see that he was okay and well. One demon, who had been by a couple of times before the fever, even stopped by to bring Andy a protection charm, which surprised both residents of the house. 

But the younger man had laughed and promised that he would share his lemonade recipe the next time it came over, which was even more confusing to Sam. In the end, Andy had just smiled secretively and not told him what the whole thing was about. 

They had laughed about it, relaxing into the familiar act. The air between them had been tense since the fever, there was no doubt, but this was something that they knew, that was familiar enough that they could ignore the growing distance between them. 

Sam mourned the loss of Dean, of Bobby, of his dad, but he had no illusions about them. They were never going to be okay with him like this, they would never have supported him or helped him in any way. They always would have told him that he was not okay, that he was evil and tainted. But he knew that, he knew that agreeing to become a ruler of Hell was evil in the eyes of them, that the demon blood coursing through his veins made him inhuman. Sam knew this, and he was, surprisingly enough, okay with it. Maybe his dad would have beaten the shit out of him, maybe Dean would have given him a look of disapproval and disappointment and tried to talk him out of it. 

That didn’t bother Sam, he was happy for once in his life since he lost Jess. 

The thought of her still stung, still brought tears to his eyes, and while it wasn’t okay what had happened, at some point he stopped placing all of the blame on Azazel and started realizing that it was Dean’s fault too - and that it was Dad’s fault too. Their dad had left without a word to track down the demon, and Dean had dragged him into it despite Sam having told him that no, he was done.  
There was a strange, almost peaceful, sense of hatred when he thought of Dean. The older man had betrayed him, had worked with other hunters to spread the message that he was dangerous, not to be trusted or worked with in any way. Andy knew about this hatred, how could he not, when the two of them lived together. But the younger man never really did anything about it, never asked Sam if he wanted to talk about it, mainly because he knew Sam wouldn’t want to. 

Crowley stopped by to visit more often, lingering glances that were returned with a hint of caution, flirtations hidden among quips and jibes. Sam would readily admit to no one, ever, that he quite enjoyed the little game of cat and mouse that Crowley played with him. Very little was ever brought up about the rebellion, although Sam did make it a point several times to try and question the demon about it. While it got him nowhere, Azazel at least was satisfied with him attempts, encouraging him to try to learn the art of persuasion, and even going so far as asking Andy to help him develop the power. Andy had agreed, but also mentioned that he wished to seek out a job somewhere, as the days around the house were making him restless, and Sam had agreed that he would like to see the younger man get a job.

And so, a schedule formed that was surprisingly fluid and easy for all of them. It was something that Sam had not had with Dean, or his Dad, and it was something Andy had never had growing up either, something he wondered if he might have had with Ansem, if his twin hadn’t been quite so obsessed with murdering the people he believed to have been at fault for their separation, or getting between them. Of course that was bull, but it’s not like the man had know that, his mind having been twisted and manipulated by Azazel. Andy couldn’t say that he was mad at his twin, but he was nonetheless sullen and morose about it.

But he was okay with what he had now, with the mornings spent searching online for jobs while Sam practiced meditation and tried to learn how to best communicate with his ever-growing power; afternoons spent alternating between entertaining and interviewing demonic visitors, and trying to teach each other how to further their abilities. Nights were set aside so that if the need arose, either of them could spend time together or alone, nothing set or scheduled, just free time. Life was good, and it seemed like it was going to stay that way for a little while, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment below! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say!


	10. Chapter Ten - Love Is Nice (But Sometimes It's Not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up my dearest darlings! I know, I know, I'm back waayyyy early with an update, which is why I apologize if I don't get the next one out for another month or so, classes have just started back and it's been hectic. Also! I'd like to know who you guys want Lemonade Demon to be, I've decided to make him a semi-permanent fixture in this AU! He could be a fallen angel masquerading as a demon, he could be an original character, up to you guys!  
>  
> 
> **Also this chapter has some non-graphic descriptions of implied sexual desires, nothing is explicit and nothing takes place.**

Crowley could admit that maybe he had a thing for the potential future general of Hell. The man was young, yes, much younger than his vessel, but what would that matter when he belonged in Hell every bit as much as the majority of damned souls and demons did? Besides that, Crowley couldn’t deny that he found the young man’s naivety about the going-ons of Hell quite… endearing. Sam tended to put others before himself, and seemed to be looking in every direction but the one he should be looking in during his search for the rebellion. He seemed adamant to not look too hardly at what Crowley told him, whether that was information about the growing group of demons, or if it was compliments delivered with a lascivious mile. 

He had heard rumors going around that Andy was Samuel’s future consort, or current one at the very least. Personally, he thought that even if Andy had lusted for the older man, Sam was both too much of a gentleman and far too naive to act on or notice it. But for all of the time he spent visiting them—not spying on Sam, how dare he be accused of such a thing—he had never once seen evidence of any sort of attraction between the two. 

Beside the lack of interest from either of them, Crowley was well aware a certain demon was attempting to initiate a courtship with Andy. Besides stopping by for visits, the demon had given him gifts and expressed _concern_ for the young man, something that demons very, very rarely did. Doubtless this demon had every intention of dragging Andy into Hell and teaching him exactly how much potential he had, not to be the ruler—no, that was for Samuel—but to be powerful, someone feared and strong, capable of things beyond what Andy could possibly dream as of now. Of course, that might just be Crowley projecting how own wants towards Samuel onto a demon he knew surprisingly little about.

There was no doubt however, that both of the remaining contestants of Azazel’s little game, garnered quite a bit of attention. For the most part, the denizens of Hell took little to no interest in the political hierarchy, but with the sudden stirrings from Azazel and Alastair and the appearance of two completely _new_ beings, neither fully human nor demon, they gossiped nonstop. However, a good majority of them were far too cowardly to ever dream of approaching the house where the Boyking lived, and even more of them would never entertain the idea of attempting to woo the man. It was a small comfort to him, to know that he _could_ pursue the Boyking, even if he _shouldn’t_. It would be stupid to get attached, but nonetheless he found himself wanting to know what the young man would look like spread out beneath him, gasping and flushed, lips swollen and bitten, hair a mess.

Perhaps, he mused, he should be a bit more forward with his intent. That would make for quite the interesting encounter, most especially if the younger man was there.

Crowley chuckled at the thought of Andy going pale and green, excusing himself to gather his thoughts and perhaps try not to pass out or puke from the unneeded mental images that would no doubt appear. Something Sam would undoubtedly tease him about later, after Crowley had left. But the much more appealing mental image came from the thought of Sam’s flushed face, embarrassed and perhaps even stammering. How long had it been since anyone had made advances on the young man? Too long, surely. Well, Crowley could certainly rectify that. He just needed to figure out a good time to stop by, as he always planned with care when his visits to the Winchester house took place. And before that he needed to speak with an ever-present annoyance in his life. Sighing to himself, the demon stood and brushed invisible dust off of his suit, looking over to where Juliet had raised her head to look at him inquisitively, and reached out to pat her on the head.

““I’ll be back soon, girl.” He promised the pup (even if she was huge, Juliet was still rather young in Hell’s years). “I’m off to see Meg, behave while I’m gone.” while he logically knew that there was no way the hellhound could understand him, he knew that she would recognize the other demon’s name, and come looking for him if he wasn’t home to feed her by suppertime. 

Doubtless he would be home by then, but he supposed that if Meg decided to host an impromptu gathering of the main figureheads of their not-so-little rebellion, then there wasn’t much he could do in the way of declining. Even excusing himself to take of Juliet would be seen as him being unsociable and rude. Squaring his shoulders, Crowley picked up a stack of papers that he needed to take to Meg anyway, and made his way towards what felt like his own demise.

* * *

Andy sighed, for perhaps the tenth time that evening, and Sam looked over at him from his position on the couch across the living room, torn between concern and annoyance. He sighed himself and sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor from his previous position of lying down. The younger boy was curled up and holding a small piece of paper, and had been staring at it in consternation since dinner at least, if not before. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked after a moment, and Andy jumped a bit, looking up guiltily. He cleared his throat, and coughed a bit before speaking. 

“Nothing, I’m sorry.” He apologized, biting his lip as he looked back down at the card. He felt unreasonably disappointed in the neat script he was staring at, and had to hold back yet another sigh. 

The paper had come with the protection charm that his lemonade-loving friend had given him with a soft smile and a request that he wear it ‘ _at all times, I wish to know that you are safe_.’ he had done as asked, was wearing a small leather sachet around his neck that gave of strange smells at even stranger times. The paper was simple and to the point, simply providing a phone number and the short message that the demon already knew Andy’s number, and that he would stay in touch. 

It had been weeks since his last visit, and there was no next, no call, and certainly no staying in touch. Andy knew he was being unreasonably upset about it, but it didn’t change that he felt as though one of his few friends didn’t want to be around him very much. Shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind and stuffing them into a box, he put on a smile for Sam, who was looking at him in worry. 

“Andy… you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? You know I’m here to help how I can.” He said, and the younger of the two relaxed a bit, allowing himself to smile a bit more genuinely. 

“I know, and I promise I’d tell you if something was wrong.” He vowed, before stretching and uncurling himself from his position. “Now, it is almost 11pm on a Thursday, and I have an interview tomorrow afternoon, so I’m going to go to sleep.” Standing, he tucked the paper into his pocket and picked up his glass from the side table, carrying the coaster with him to clean it of condensation. He had insisted on getting them with the amount of guests they had over, narrowing his eyes at Sam when the hunter had attempted to pick out the ugliest, most obtrusive and hideous things that he could possibly find. They had smiled and laughed about it at the checkout, Andy teasing the older man. 

It was sweet to think about now, when he felt conflicted about someone, something, he barely knew, something inhuman that had for some reason found a way to make him fond of it, and at the same time was just as fond of him. Maybe. Andy scowled, glaring down at the cup in his hand as his thoughts raced around like chickens when they were terrified. He wondered why he let himself dwell on the demon so much. Perhaps it was because he had so few friends before he met Sam and Dean, and then he'd had even less, and now he was presented with the opportunity for not just Sam's friendship, but for someone else's, and he was clinging to it like a man in the desert would cling to a glass of water. Andy breathed out through his nose and gently pushed his own analyzing thoughts away, determined not to deal with them tonight, not before his interview; one Sam was trusting him not to persuade the employer in. 

After washing his dishes, he retreated to his bedroom and changed into his pajamas, crawling into bed and alternating between staring at his phone and at the piece of paper. He spent the better part of an hour writing out a text message, and then deleting it and re-writing it, as thought it had to be absolutely perfect before he could hit send. If he could bring himself to hit it. In the end, he simply typed out a simply ‘hey’ and didn’t send it. It was nearing midnight when he put both the phone and the paper on his nightstand and rolled over, closing his eyes and attempting to force himself into sleep, hoping he wouldn't dream. It didn't work, and he dreamed of lemons and the smell of sulfur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment who you think our Lemon Boi should be!
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you all! <3


	11. Chapter Eleven - Not Everything Is Perfect (But When Is It Ever?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My newfound motivation to work is scaring me but I'm going to use it as long as I can. 'Tis for the best. Also!! A Dean chapter! A whole chapter of Dean! He's an asshole! He's slightly insane! And we see some Castiel!

_Step, step, step, step, step pause. Rustle. Step, step, step, step, step, pause. Rustle._ Back and forth, pacing nonstop. Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he glanced at the door to the Roadhouse once more, waiting. Waiting for Mackey, the one hunter who had come into contact with Sam since the night he left. It had been months, the better part of a year in truth, and there had been more and more demonic activity than hunters could keep up with. They talked constantly, bragging and boasting about the rise of their leaders, about someone called the Boyking, who would lead them in their battles as they fought a holy war. 

It annoyed Dean to no end, that he couldn’t figure out who exactly it was even if he did have suspicions. He knew, instinctively, that it was Sam they were talking about, but no matter how long he tortured them, no matter what new and creative ways he came up with to inflict pain, they refused to give a name, not even a location or state could be pried from them. He begrudgingly admired their dedication, even if it made his life a thousand times harder. 

Mackey had apparently located Sam somewhere in Arizona, and had not only nearly killed him, but had nearly been killed by him, or so he claimed. Dean wondered if Sam had strayed far enough from what little humanity he’d ever had to become the kind of monster that kills hunters, protectors of the innocent, in cold blood. That was certainly what it seemed to sound like, and the thought of it made his lip curl back in a silent snarl. He wanted nothing more than to brutally gut the monster that had taken over his brother, that had destroyed the boy he raised. He wanted to see the blood on his hands and know that the world was safe even if it meant losing the only person he’d ever cared for. If Sam had ever been a person, that was. The door swung open, and Dean looked up sharply, relaxing for a moment when he saw that it was Mackey, before tensing even more. He locked eyes with him, and gestured for the man to follow him into the back, waiting till they were in Ellen’s office and the door was shut before talking. Dean couldn’t deny that his stomach was full of moths, beating against his skin like they wanted out, constantly fumbling around in the dark and unable to escape.

“You’ve seen Sam.” He stated, and Mackey grimaced, nodding. 

“That I have. We worked a hunt together in Arizona, some sort of hybrid thing, part wraith and part vamp. Neither of us had heard of it before, the damn thing nearly killed him. And then he nearly killed me.”

“Explain. What happened, in detail, when you guys found it. Because it sounds like the two of you were getting along fairly well until then.” Dean said, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk as Mackey propped himself up on a wall.

“After I got your message, I let him get pinned down by it. It bit him and took a good chunk of skin and muscle, though I have to admit I’m surprised it didn’t snag anything major. He blasted the thing off of him while it was still attached, and then burned it alive. He asked why I left him to die. I showed him the text, he managed some form of witchcraft to scab over his wound. It was glowing, man.” Mackey paused, taking a deep breath and sighing. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and threw his head back against the wall. “Bright red-orange color, like the sunset had manifested right next to me. Scary as hell. His eyes were a dull, dark red color when he opened them, and the wound looked like it was on fire, or smouldering. I think he cauterized his wound with magic, because the air around it was weird and hazy, like a highway in the middle of summer in Texas.” 

“Did it seem like he knew how much of a freak he is?” Dean asked, face and voice equally blank. 

“No, not really. He just turned to me and threatened me, nearly killed me. Thought for sure he was either going to incinerate me or choke me to death.” There was true terror in the hunter’s voice and Dean knew then and there that Sam wasn’t human anymore, he was so beyond human, and he would do nothing but continue to become more and more monstrous. Someone had to put a stop to this, and it might as well be him. 

“Thanks. I’ll keep you and the rest updated if we find him.” He said, brushing past Mackey on his way to the bar, desperate for a shot (or five) of whiskey. Part of him screamed that Bobby was right, that Sam wasn’t evil and just needed a chance to show that, but he pushed it down, knowing that his Dad had been right. He’d failed to save Sam - god how that stung, he failed the one mission his father had left him - so now he had to kill him. It was the only way. The only way that humanity would be safe from his brother, a monster. 

Later that week found Dean crashed in a motel after a hunt, bloody and dirty. He was tired and bruised, dried blood pulling at his skin painfully. Sighing, he dropped his bag on the single bed and turned, getting ready to undress and shower where there was a knock at the door. 

“Go away.” He snapped, loud enough to be heard through the door as she shucked his jacket and started unlacing his boots. The knock came again, insistent and louder than before. Dean growled, jerking his boots off and dropping them on the floor, the smell making him wince. God they stunk. 

Stalking over to the door, he threw it open and glared at the person on the other side. He was met with an equally unyielding, if much calmer look, before the person shoved their way in, trenchcoat brushing against plaid in the small space. 

“Who, and I mean this as polite as possible,” Dean said, shutting the door and turning to look at the man, who was surveying the tiny room as if it was made of shit. “-the fuck are you?”

“My name is Castiel.” The man said, voice gravelly in a way that reminded Dean of his father, when he would wake up from a particularly bad night, caused by either alcohol or a hangover. Neither scenarios ever ended good for him, or for Sam. 

“Weird name, but I’ve heard weirder.” Dean huffed, crossing his arms as he stared at Castiel. “Why are you here? You a hunter? If so, you got the wrong Winchester, man. Sammy isn’t here.” 

It seemed like there was no way that a human could cross the room that fast, but Castiel was in his face in seconds, eyes harsh and seeming to glow with an almost otherworldly power. Dean swallowed down dread, trying to distract himself from the adrenaline making his heart speed up and his breathing cut short. His head felt like it was swimming, and he felt like his lungs were drowning in the sudden tense atmosphere. 

“Do not presume to know why I am here, Dean Winchester. I could just as easily deal with a crowd of demons as I could end you. You should show me some respect. I am here on orders, and orders alone.” Castiel stepped back, and Dean could breathe again, shuddering as he took a wary step back.

“What are those orders? And what are you?” 

“I am angel of the Lord. My orders are to speak to you about your brother. You need to find him, Dean, and soon. We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is why – what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up. You brother is headed down a dangerous road, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will. And trust me when I say that you will not like the way we stop it.” The words were harsh and menaching, and made Dean nauseas. A beat of silence passed between them, and he blinked a bit before scoffing.

“Yeah right, angels aren’t real. I was raised a hunter, I should know. Now if that’s some weird name for your little organizatio-” His words were cut short by the lights shorting out and exploding, sparks flying as two giant shadows appeared on the wall behind Castiel, his eyes truly glowing now, a bright blue that seemed to make the temperature of the room drop by several degrees. 

“This is your problem, Dean.” The words were surprisingly clear amidst the sound of glass shattering and a ringing starting up in his ears. “You have no faith.” 

The moment was over just as quickly as it began, and he watched in horrified fascination as Castiel snapped, the lights repairing themselves and flickering back on, humming with electricity. Dean swallowed down bile, closing his eyes as he did so. “Alright, fine.” He said at last, opening his eyes to look at Castiel, who stood across the room staring at him with disturbingly calm, unblinking eyes. “Last I know of Sam he was in Arizona for a case. That’s all I’ve heard but I’ve got hunters everywhere keeping an eye out for him.”

“We are aware of his sighting in Arizona, and we are here to assist you in your search for him, not for you to assist us. It is our… _hope_ , that you will be able to take your brother off of the path he is on.” Castiel said, the word hope rolling off of his tongue like it left a bad taste in his mouth. He pushed past Dean once more, opening the door to look over his shoulder at the hunter. 

“We will be in touch.” He said, closing the door behind him and leaving Dean standing in his motel roomed, stunned and off-kilter. 


End file.
